


Making a Home

by TheQueen



Series: Pack Relations (And Other Miscommunications) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is doing her best, Allura-cetric, Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha Pidge, Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Asexual Character, Depression, F/M, M/M, Miscommunication, Omega Lance (Voltron), She just wants to take care of her family, beta hunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8403442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheQueen/pseuds/TheQueen
Summary: Allura tries her best to understand her Paladins starting with the heart of her team.





	1. Learning

It is difficult at times to relate to a species when one is made to live with them for longer than a quick visit or diplomatic consultations. It is not that she is unprepared for such events, having trained for such things since she reached her father’s knee. But simply that these things are inherently difficult.

Alteans have always been a proud race. Masters of shape shifting, they were never a people to bow to call of violence. Preferring to make their way through the known universe (comprised of most of their super cluster but there are even uncharted territories in the Galran maps they steal from battle ships) peacefully. Studying those they find and assimilating.

Allura is no scholar. She has never had the patients for it, too interested in herding yelmier and riding bareback across the plains on her beautiful free bird, only her thoughts for company. (No Coran, with all his infinite wisdom, is the last of the Altean scholars, which isn’t inherently a negative thing. He’s always been a brilliant teacher with a tendency to make the most boring historical facts fascinating.) But she has always taken her studies seriously, which is why she likes to think she hasn’t fumbled too seriously.

A poorly phrased word here. A joke gone misunderstood there. But nothing that couldn’t be forgiven with a quick apology.

But that also doesn’t mean she is doing exceptionally well either. Humans, for all that they look similar to Alteans minus their stubby ears and skin markings, are unlike any species she has acquainted herself with before. With their dynamics and second genders taking form in… almost animalistic traits.

(She would never say primitive. She wouldn’t. She thought it once and felt a shame so great that she could not bear to face them at dinner and instead ate in her room until Lance had come dragged her out. And even then, later that night she had apologized to Shiro but couldn’t bring herself to explain why.)

In her three months of living with her Paladins since they were reunited after her kidnapping, she has begun to note behavior that would have been unacceptable amongst Altean culture where skin-to-skin contact was reserved for family or romantic partners. Behavior that she is willing herself to become comfortable with.

First there is what they call scenting. Humans have an incredibly complex and sensitive nose, capable of picking up the unique smell that each human is born with. In human culture it is common for humans to share their scents as a way to feel calmer and more secure in their relationship. They share their scents through both platonic means (touching the wrists or elbows) as well as through more intimate means reserved for family (touching of cheeks or through hugging) or romantic interests (kissing the neck or lips and, of course, sex).

The first time Lance had attempted to rub cheeks with her, she had jerked back in confusion. Leaving the poor boy floundering, lost, and close to tears. Pidge had even growled at her. It had taken both Hunk and Shiro to explain why Lance’s touch was not meant as a breach of personal space or a romantic move (he had ended his flirting a few weeks after becoming settled in the castle), but as an invitation to invite her and Coran into their pack. One Omega to another.

(It had surprised her that her paladins viewed her as an Omega in terms of social hierarchy, having assumed she and Coran would default to Beta. Apparently despite initial assumptions, Omegas were actual the leaders of the pack with Alphas acting more like vanguards. Alphas were often seen as the public face of a packed because of their superior strength and protective instincts, which is why no one had batted an eye when she named Shiro leader of Voltron and not Lance. But Omegas held the ultimate say in what a pack did or did not do. Learning this had changed Allura’s assumptions on how her team behaved in battle. Once she began communicating not just with Shiro but also with Lance who, according to human social structures, was the actual second-in-command in battle and not Keith (that had been an interesting conversation to have) she had found her paladins responding faster to her commands.)

She has yet to take Lance up on his offer to join their pack. But they had both done their best to clear the air. It is not that Allura does not wish to join their pack or that Allura does not see them as family despite their short time knowing each other. Rather, she and Coran are not ready. There is still too much they do not understand about their Paladins to feel comfortable navigating the intricate and detailed relations of Alpha, Beta, Omega dynamics. When she had explained all of this to Lance, Lance had taken her hand in his, most likely scenting with her through her wrists in an attempt to sooth her, and said that they were willing to wait and that there would always be a place for them in his pack. The gesture had brought her to tears. Happy tears, but tears nonetheless.

Then there was the cuddling. Apparently humans were a very touchy species. Even Keith, her most reserved paladin, was known to reach out to touch not only those of his pack but also Allura and Coran. Hunk said it grounded them, made them feel safer knowing they could be physically present with them.

Allura, in compromise of her own cultural upbringing and her need to ensure her paladins felt as comfortable as possible, had begun to wear shorter sleeves, leaving her arms and wrists bare. The first time she had done this, Pidge had taken her aside and assured her that she need not push herself. Apparently, Omega and Beta men and women in some cultures on Earth were more particular about how they covered their bodies and that the Paladins had come to an understanding that skin was more private in Altean culture than in their own. Allura had explained that this was her choice. She wanted to be closer to her Paladins. To do that compromise must be reached.

Even Coran has begun to leave his gloves off and accepting Lance or Hunk’s touch when offered. He is a bit more cautious with Pidge, Keith, and Shiro. Lance had said this was “alright.” Apparently her Paladins view Coran as an Alpha and that it “isn’t uncommon for one Alpha to be weary of another Alpha when first joining the group. But don’t worry, Princess. Hunk and I are well-versed in how to keep the peace between a bunch of stressed Alphas.”

And then there were the traits that seem specific to each class.

Betas… Well she doesn’t have a sufficient pool to assume what was Beta behavior verses Hunk. But from what behavior Allura could gleam from Hunk that Beta’s picked up where Omegas and Alphas left off. The peacemaker of the group, Hunk had the strength of an Alpha but the nurturing nature of an Omega. An evolutionary trait most likely born of the fact that there were so many more Alphas than Omegas on Earth. Beta woman could even give birth if there is a shortage of Omega men and women! How clever!

Alphas behavior is easy to understand. With three examples to look from, it is easy to pick up the protective nature, the growling, and the almost constant need for scenting and touching. Keith, in particular, seems to have a greater need for scenting than Shiro. Perhaps because he is so young? She does not think it was her place to ask for clarification.

And Omegas… Here Allura finds her knowledge short. What is an Omega? The one who give birth. What in her culture you would refer to as maternal. A caregiver. And also the leader. The one the other’s bow to. The one the others would give their lives to protect.

(Shiro once told her that to die after one’s Omega was one of the greatest insult an Alpha could suffer. She had not known how to respond.)

Lance’s actions, compared to Keith and Shiro and Hunk, were subtle. A gentle touch of wrists here. A hug there. A well thought gift. A reminder to eat or sleep or to stop training. Lance, the one with enough emotional maturity that the others came to him for comfort, but also the one most likely to misread a situation and attempt a poorly timed joke. Lance, the one who accepted her and Coran into his pack with an almost unnatural ease. Lance, the one least likely to shoot first. Lance, the one most likely to offer a hand before a fist.

But also the one who’d done this…

She takes a deep breath, the smell of death and piss and blood heavy enough to choke her. Slowly, she deactivates her blaster and holsters her weapon. Lance snarls, gun not moving.  _His eyes_ , Allura quickly realizes,  _are black_. The usual blue completely swallowed by the expanded pupil. Slowly she brings her hands forward, palms open.

“Lance,” she calls.

Lance regards her with an almost detached curiosity. Eyes trained on her hands and head tilted ever so slightly to the side. She holds still. Counting her breaths as Coran asks if she needs assistance. She does not dare answer him. Finally, after twenty-seven steady breaths, Lance lowers and deactivates his bayard. “Allura,” he mumbles, voice slurred as if just waking up.

“Yes, Lance,” she fights back a sigh of relief before taking careful steps forward, hands still up in case he feels she has gotten too close. “Is Shiro okay?”

Lance blinks. Once. Twice. He shakes his head. Taking a step back and turns. There is a body by his feet and he seems almost surprised to see it. “Hunk has them in the control room. Um… Shiro is down but stable. Pidge and Keith are with them.”

Allura nods. “Is… Is there anyone else on the ship?”

Lance looks at her for a moment and then looks down at the bodies all around them and then past that to the bodies she had seen in the halls and adjourning rooms. He shakes his head. “No. No. I don’t think there is.”

.

It is hard after that to reconcile her knowledge of Lance with the…the Lance that had turned a battle ship into a grave yard. Shiro says it is a blood fever. “When a pack is backed into the corner, if an Omega feels strongly enough for them it is possible for them to slip into this state of mind where they will do anything until the threat is eliminated.”

They’re standing outside of Lance’s healing pod. The others have left. Gone to lick their own wounds until they can find the strength to keep vigil. This is not the first time Lance has been placed in a healing pod. Allura knows how her team will behave. “Is that safe?”

Shiro just shrugs.

.

“I heard an Omega once ran twenty miles to get to a nearby hospital because her child was bleeding out,” Pidge says when Allura goes to her with questions. “It was all over the news.”

“Did she make it?” Allura asks.

“Collapsed of exhaustion the minute they got through the door,” Pidge isn’t smiling. “Died the next day.”

.

Keith has not moved from the pod since taking a shower. It has been two days.

“Lance would not appreciate your behavior,” she starts because she knows she is right but she also doesn’t know how else to begin. Yes, her Paladins might view her as an Omega. But she has never had the neutering hand Hunk and Lance seem to wield with enviable ease. “You should come eat.”

Keith looks at her for a moment and then turns back to the pod.

She frowns. Setting the bowl of food on the table near the door, she walks closer. Her paladin… no. Her friend is hurting. She wants to help. “The pod will not quicken with you standing here. He will wake tomorrow.”

Keith makes a soft whining noise and slowly Allura approaches and places a hand against his wrist, rubbing a soothing circle against his palm in the same way she has seen Lance do in the past. He leans into her, eyes still trained on the pod even as they fill with tears.

“What is wrong, Keith?” Allura asks, adjusting so Keith’s head lay comfortably against the space between her neck and shoulder. Lance has been in the pods before and she knows how her Paladins behave. This is unusual behavior. She feels, for a moment, hyperaware of his breath against her neck before she slowly wills the tension from her shoulders. She wishes to help her friend. And she knows enough of humans and of Keith to know this will help.

(But still she is glad she wore a high collar today.)

“I-,” Keith sniffles, “It’s my fault.”

“Oh, Keith…”

“I wasn’t… I got hurt and then Shiro went down and Lance just… He just…” Keith is crying now, thick sobs against her shoulder and she wraps her arms around him. “I couldn’t be there. He almost died and he kept fighting because I wasn’t… I wasn’t _good_ enough.” He chokes on that word. Good. Like it means so much more than Allura can ever understand. And she doesn’t know how to fix this. Can only hope Lance can fix it when he steps out of the healing pod.

But she can say this; “Lance would never wish for you to blame yourself.”

Keith nods and gasps, sucking in too much air as he tries to fight the tears down. Allura is familiar with the feeling. “He’s too good for me.”

Allura frowns. She knows of their budding relationship, knows that Keith has begun to court Lance in accordance to traditions from Earth. And from what she has seen, Lance has only ever been receptive of Keith as a life partner. “He does not see it that way,” she states. Because it is simple to see from Lance’s body language, from the way he leans towards Keith when they share a space and the way the Blue Paladin always seems to accompany Keith during missions that Lance has only ever viewed Keith as an equal.

Keith sniffles and shakes his head. Allura runs a hand through his hair and slowly pulls away. “Either way,” she says, changing the topic because she does not know what to say from here. She can only bring it up with Lance and hope he can fix the situation. Not for the first time, she wishes she could do more. “Lance would want you to eat, correct? Isn’t it better to keep from worrying him further by taking care of yourself?”

It is easy to herd Keith towards his food after that.

.

There is a shift in the air the moment Lance steps out of the healing pod and falls into Shiro’s arms. As if the very castle was breathing a sigh of relief, the tension that had weighed down the very air ever so slowly slips away.

“It is good to see you out,” Allura greets once everyone was finished hugging Lance. He smiles at her, eyes warm.

“Did you miss me?” he teases as he reaches for her hand.

She offers it easily. “Yes, very much.”

He blushes then and rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Keith, Allura noticed for the first time, was standing away from Lance, at the very edge of the circle. Quietly she steals a glance with Shiro to see if he has noticed.

He has.

.

After dinner, she walks to Lance’s room and knocks. There is a moment of silence and then Lance is sliding the door open, dressed in only pants. She feels her face grow hot and she averts her eyes, starring just over his shoulder

(His room is surprisingly neat.)

“I wished to speak to you,” she starts, “Can I come in?”

Lance’s face is oddly blank and quietly he lets her pass. She is uncertain on where to sit and so simply stands until he takes a seat on the lower bunk and gestures for her to do the same. She feels… nervous? She has no real reason to, but perhaps it is because she will be attempting to convey something even she does not truly comprehend.

But Keith is her friend as all the Paladins are. She would help him if she could.

“It is about Keith,” she says and watches as, just for a moment, Lance’s face twists into something ugly before returning to the same neutral look. “I… um… He is not doing very well since you went into the healing pod.” Lance does not react. She does not know what to do. Carefully she reaches out to touch his hand with hers only for him to jerk away.

It feels like she has been stung.

Slowly she brings her hand back and clears her throat. “He took to standing vigil by your pod to the point where he endangered his own health. He is under the impression that your blood fever is his fault. He also explained he does not feel he is worthy of your affection.”

Lance’s neutrality breaks. He breaks eye contact. He turns away. Takes a deep breath. And then turns back. “Thank you, Allura.” His tone is clipped. Short. He has never taken such a tone with her before. She scrambles to say something. “For bringing this to my attention.” He stands, abruptly, and she hurries to follow him. Soon enough she finds herself once again on the other side of the door. There is fire in Lance’s eyes. “I can take care of  _my_  pack from here.”

And the door closes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all the awesome feedback I got on the last story (Cultural Differences and Miscommunication) I decided to continue this 'verse in a series of stories. I have four planned out and have begun writing them. They are described in the notes section of the series header. I will not be posting the stories in chronological order, but they will be listed in chronological order. This story will be about three to four chapters long and is really focused on fleshing out the world. 
> 
> Let me know what you think?


	2. Misinformation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you read on: if you haven't read the first story in this series, I really suggest you do to give you some context. But other than that please enjoy!

That night she lies awake. Thoughts scrambling as she attempts to understand what she has done wrong. Lance’s anger is a weight that pushes against her chest. She does not know what she has done, but she has done something. Stumbled into some sort of social blunder that has angered Lance enough that he can barely stand to be in the same room as her.

Had it been during dinner? Had she said something that would have offended Lance? But… but Shiro has always been so quick to correct her in the past. Had it been something so terrible that to correct her would be embarrassing? Or had she done something during her interaction with Lance before the pod? She remembers her fear with the same startling clarity she remembers the carnage and she wonders how that must have looked to Lance. Kind, nurturing Lance who has thrown himself into a war that Allura and her people have gifted him

Perhaps…Lance has finally come to resent her for forcing on him a war his people have no real part in.

(And if that is the case… Well. Who is she to blame him?)

Her sleep is fitful.

.

The next morning she enters the dining room and braces herself. But the others simply look up and smile at her. Pidge, sleep deprived as always, grunts a greeting. Hunk passes her a plate as Coran walks in after him, carrying three judges of water and the closest thing they’ve been able to find to human caffeine. Keith nods his head. Shiro smiles. And Lance… Lance looks up at her, meets her eye, and smiles. When she passes him, he reaches out as always, gifting her with a delicate swipe of thumb against her wrist, before returning to whatever conversation he was having with Shiro.

She cannot hear them. Her hearts are pounding too hard for her to hear anything past the ringing in her ears. When Coran pours her a glass of “coffee,” she thanks him with a smile because she is too scared to open her mouth and say something she will regret. There is something wrong with the air, a coldness that leaves her unable to make eye contact with the others. No one attempts conversation with her.

When Lance stands, she jerks. Feels her breath come out too fast, too hard. Hunk stares at her for a moment with a look she finds indescribable. But that is only a passing thought as her attention stays wholly focused on Lance. He catches her eye for a moment. Just a moment. And that look--that same ugly look--flashes across his face so fast she almost assumes she imagined it. Before he smiles, uttering something about taking a walk.

Keith becomes flustered. Allura does not understand why.

It is only as Lance leaves that Allura comes to the startling resolution of what has been missing during breakfast. Slowly, as if she were simply rubbing her nose, she brings her wrist to her face to smell.

Warmth. The feeling of family, of pack. The indescribable scent that follows Lance from room to room that never fails to set one at easy. It is gone.

.

The knowledge of rejection leaves her weak kneed, close to tears, and unable to stand a moment longer in the common areas. When breakfast is dismissed, she mutters something about reading that has Coran throwing her an incredulous look before bolting out of the room. She finds herself somewhere in the old corners of the castle, past the dorms and her bedroom. Closer to where the majority of the castle used to co-exist. Towards the empty, dusty ballrooms and large dining areas where Allura can remember her father hosting grand dinner parties and grander diplomatic meetings. Towards the throne room Allura has not allowed herself to set foot in since waking. Towards the staircases that leads towards the upper areas of the castle that she knows only Keith and, occasionally, Lance have been adventurous enough to climb. The others more content to stay within the clean, used corridors and rooms of the castle. Pidge and Hunk with their workshops. Shiro with his training deck and common living quarters.

The first time Allura had allowed her feet to take her past Coran's room towards the true center of the castle, she'd promptly turned around and spent the rest of evening in her room, working her breathing to a steadier pace. Now she sought solace in the few places that would not remind her of her Paladin. Lance and his presence has soaked into every crevice and corner of their shared space like a warm fog settling over the Castle. When he is gone, the castle suffers. Losses its warmth and its welcoming presence, leaving everyone to huddle around the cryo pod until Lance returns.

Allura might not have the capability to pick up Lance's particular smell. Allura might not have the scent glands necessary to truly understand what an Omega's presence feels like. But she has senses. And she has eyes. Lance might not realize it, but it is obvious how his scent attracts every other being in their supercluster. That there is a reason why he is accompanied from market stall to market stall when they go planet-side for supplies. That there is a reason why he is often accosted at parties and diplomatic events. That there is a reason Allura often chooses him to accompany her when she greets a new leader. He sets people at ease, opens them up, makes them honest. And in return they ache for him.

Allura's own feelings towards Lance have never dipped towards the romantic. (Maybe once, when she first woke up only to fall into the presence of warmth and family and safety before Lance had opened his mouth to flirt.) But she is not entirely unaffected.

 _No._ She thinks, finding her feet failing her as she collapses by one of the larger bay windows. The view is breathtaking as always . Space stretching forwards forever and ever and ever. But she cannot look at it now; instead her head falls against her arms as she focuses on her breathing. _I am not unaffected at all._

.

Coran finds her eventually. He takes a seat on the windowsill. Once, if the castle were as it was ten thousand years ago (and what does that number mean? It is so large and finite. Ten thousand. A thousand times ten…), there would be soft fabrics and pillows decorating the windowsill. Welcoming people to sit down and enjoy the natural beauty of Altea. Now there is stone and dust leaving marks on her third favorite dress.

"Do you wish to discuss what is going on?" Coran asks her gently. Voice firm but kind. A light touch on her knee so even though she cannot see him from where she hides her face in her arms, she can know he is close. He has not worn gloves today.

"I have made a grave error," Allura admits, voice hoarse and small. Barely above a whisper. "And I do not know what I've done or how to correct it."

"Allura..."

"Lance hates me now," She sniffles, looking up through wet lashes to see Coran, mouth drawn down in a frown. A wrinkle between his eyebrows. "And I don't know what I've done, Coran. I don't..." She chokes, takes another few deep breaths and tries to center herself. She cannot break down. She cannot break down. Coran does not need this stress on top of everything else.

(She remembers a younger man. Orange hair and the beginnings of his famous mustache, wrapped in the arms of her father. Head pillowed on the king's shoulder as he rambled about everything he'd learned that day. The favored of all of King Alfor's wives, even above Allura's long-past mother--a woman Allura has no memory of, not even in paintings or holoscreens. Pampered. Loved.

She rarely sees that man now in the face before her. Overworked. Over-stressed. The last of their kind attempting to maintain a legacy that is so much bigger than themselves. Allura loves Coran like the mother she never had. She thinks Coran loves her like the daughter he never got the chance to have. But even now the woman who gave birth to her hangs over them like a guillotine’s blade ready to fall.)

"I've lost my second family," she whispers to him, feeling the tears fall once again. Sleepiness weighs heavy on her limbs and so she does not fight back when Coran pulls her close for a hug. She wants his comfort, wants the warm presence of family when usually she would have refused. At least this is what she tells herself as she lets go, rests his head on his shoulder and tries not to focus too hard on the feeling of his hands on her back.

"Have you spoken to Lance?" Coran asks.

Allura shakes her head. Lance's actions were clear after dinner. He does not want her anymore. She will not force her presence on him. She is better than that. She will not grovel.

"Perhaps you should," Coran presses, rubbing soothing circles along her back. "If not for your sake than for the sake of Voltron."

"For Voltron?" Allura asks, shifting up and away so she can look at Coran's face. His hands move to hold her hands. Skin-on-skin. A surreal experience ten-thousand years ago.

"It would not do," Coran says simply, "For the Omegas of our little family to be at each other's throat. I imagine the tension would not do well for the team."

Allura frowns, "But I am not an Omega."

Coran stares at her for a moment before smiling, fondly. "You are to them."

.

It takes a week for Allura to work up the courage to speak to Lance. And in the end he finds her.

The others have noticed. It isn’t hard. Lance plays well. Diplomatic. Welcoming when there is company. But cold. Distant. Polite like a distant relative is to a newly wedded bride. Polite like an ambassador at a state dinner for a country he has no real political benefit with. Polite like how Allura had attempted to be when she had first met her Paladins, seeing them more as useful instead of what they were. Young adults just like her. Far too over their heads but finding the strength to keep swimming.

She wonders, distantly, as that second night passes, if this is punishment. If Lance has found out about all the terrible things that passes through her mind and realizes she is no longer fit to be in his pack. If Lance has realized how unfit she is to wield the power of a monarch for all that she is just a Princess.

She has not slept well in a week and a day.

Hunk is the kindest about it, treating her as if there is nothing wrong despite the underlying tension that seems to sink into their conversations. But his maternal nature must keep him from rejecting her outright for his presence is still kind, still warm. His food tastes just as good and Allura never has to worry about getting lesser portions. Shiro is slightly less welcoming, but still present. Happy to continue their nightly chats. Happy to discuss politics and war plans and the mundane. Memories of better times on Earth or on Altea. Childhoods spent happy with kind parents and kind friends. (And if they never dare touch on heavier topics like missing time and wishes for better decisions then that is fine.) Pidge is neutral. Of her Paladins, Allura has always been the most distant from Pidge, often using Lance as the common bridge to communicate. But that bridge has been broken and Allura is unsure how to approach. When they speak, Pidge is polite in a way that sits between Lance and Hunk. Not as distant. Not as warm. Just there. But before where Allura might have watched Pidge tinker or Pidge would come to her to ask questions about Altea and its technology, now there is nothing.

Keith’s behavior, though, confuses her the most. He is Lance’s lover. Or… if not lover than soon-to-be lover. He is the most attune to Lance’s moods. She is not surprised that he falls most in line with Lance. Cold but polite. But there are also moments where he swings warm. When he comes to her and they sit in silence watching the stars. Or she sits and watches him maintain the red lion. It is all silence. All casual glances that share an understanding of needed silence. Mutual respect hangs heavy between them.

But he never dares to touch her. And she knows better than to try.

She is sitting in one of the common living spaces, shoes off because she'd head Lance scolding Keith for putting his shoes on the sofa once and decided to do as the other's do. Toes curling into the comforter someone had found or bought and left to warm anyone who decided to lounge when Lance finds her. She is reading an old comic. A series that never finished, but she enjoyed greatly before the months leading up to the war.

Lance comes quietly, footsteps soft in a way only Pidge can mimic. And not for the first time she considers the Blue Paladin for espionage before that thought gives way to the horror of thinking of her friends as assets instead of friends. “Allura,” he greets. Voice pleasant. Presence pleasantly warm in a way it has not been since the night he stepped out of the cryo pod. And Allura sits up, eye’s wide, quickly putting her screen away.

“Lance,” she greets. She does not understand what has changed, but she is grateful. For a moment she thinks that something might have even be fixed.

But there is no small talk and there is no touching. “I was wondering if I could have your permission to do some redecorating,” he asks. The distance between them might as well be seas apart and she blinks. Nods distantly. Confused.

“Do you not like the décor?” she asks, looking around the room. The white walls. The sleek blue lines. The molding and high ceilings. The tile and white-metal tables and plush white sofas all the same from what she remember as a child. Yes there used to be more pillows. But this is, in all purposes, the servant’s quarters. There is nothing extravagant.

Lance regards her for a moment before looking around the room. “I believe,” he says carefully. There is a measured tone to his voice as if he has rehearsed beforehand. She does it justice and gives him all her attention. “That it would help stress if we were allowed to personalize our space more. Make it feel more like home.”

“Oh…” she says. She had not realized the others were stressed… Or. That sounds foolish, even in her own head. It is not that she is not aware that they are stressed, but rather she is not aware that their stress had increased. But certainly Lance is more in tune to these things than she is. They are his pack. (She remembers what he had said, “I can take care of my pack.” _His_. A statement that clearly excludes her…) “Then of course. Yes. I would love to he--.”

“Thanks, Allura,” Lance calls. Already taking steps to leave the room (leave her.). “I’ll let the others know.”

.

It starts gradually as, Allura imagines, these things do.

Things are still tense between her and Lance, but time does seem to heal wounds and slowly that warmth seeps back into the rooms she enters. It is not the same. There is a wall she cannot pass. A line she cannot cross. And at times that same ugly look will pass by Lance’s face when she enters a room and no one is looking. But it is better. Shiro is no longer as tense. Pidge returns to asking her questions. Keith keeps his distance, but his warm moments become more frequent.

It starts with a few pillows and a blanket sitting innocently on the sofa in what the others have begun to call the living room. “Sea-green,” Lance tells her proudly, “To match the designs on the wall.” She hums, pleased with the texture and the material. Soft. Clearly expensive. She imagines Lance spent nearly all his len on it. But she quickly realizes it’s worth when she finds Shiro napping, unashamed and at peace on the sofa. She takes a step closer only to be caught by Lance.

“Shhh,” he tells her, face neutral. “He needs his rest. We wouldn’t want to wake him.” He is sitting on the other sofa, knitting. An activity Lance had once explained to her as relaxing. The steady of click of metal against metal rhythmic in the silence of the room with the steady hum of the engines providing background music. She nods, takeing slow steps around and to the kitchen to avoid waking him. Lance is right. Shiro rarely sleeps enough. It is only as she leaves Lance’s eyesight that she realizes the weight of his gaze.

Next is a series of large plush floor pillows. This time in a mixture of dark browns and various sea-greens. It becomes common to find Pidge lounging on them, her projects spread out across the floor, tinkering away. As the others lounge around on the sofas that seem to acquire more and more blankets and pillows as the cycles pass. “Do you no longer like your workshop?” Allura asks one day when she finds her working on taking apart the latest Galra engine they managed to salvage from a battle cruiser.

“I do,” Pidge says plainly, not looking up from her project. Allura does not take this as rude, used to Pidge’s behavior. “But it’s nice to be closer to everyone. It’s warmer.”

Then it is the small things. A vase on the table. A few knickknacks. A painting of the planets they’ve passed hanging on the walls. A family photo in the kitchen. New appliances. New cooking utensils. A table clothe for the dining room. A floor vase holding glass flowers similar to what Shiro remembered as orchids, an earth flower, to look like.

The day she walks in to the kitchen find the lights no longer the same white-blue but a warm yellow, she stops, blinks, readjusts. “Do you like it?” Pidge grins from her laptop. “I got the lights to mimic sunlight. It’ll change as the day goes like real time! Shiro and I’ve been worrying about vitamin D deficiency.” Taking Allura’s silence as a need for clarification, Pidge continues, “We get some of our vitamins from the sun. And like… I know you and Coran said the food has got us covered, but we’ve been worrying and Lance said you’d given permission to change some stuff up and we thought it’d be smart.”

“Makes the place feel a lot homier,” Hunk adds, stirring something in a large yellow mixing bowl she’d never seen before. “Like I’m back at my kitchen.” He looks at her, “Would you like a snack Allura? Coran has been teaching me a few recipes and I think I’ve got this cookie down. I mean I changed up some stuff cause, no offense, but I’m not sure Coran remembered the salt quantity right. And I had to add that ole’ Hunk flare. It’s nearly perfect.” He sets the bowl down and grabs a plate of tea biscuits.

“No…” Allura says, voice feeling far away as she looks at the room bathed in yellow light, so very different from how she remembers it as a child. “I’m good, thank you.”

“Your loss,” Pidge grins, grabbing a few cookies. “Hunk’s a genius.”

“Ah! Pidge. You sweet talker!”

.

Its three months after Lance first asked her for permission later when the yelmier’s back breaks.

They have training soon and she is walking towards the common areas when she hears a commotion coming from the dining room. Her paladins are here, crowded around the far wall. And what she sees has her stopping in her tracks. On the farthest facing wall is a mural. A mixture of colors giving way to create a mural of what she must assume is an Earth park. A green stretch of land dominating the scene with humans scattered throughout. Some young and playing. Some older and sitting or standing or hugging or kissing or lounging by themselves. There are toys. A diamond in the sky. Children riding two-wheeled machines. She takes a deep breath, giving away her entrance.

“Allura!” Shiro greets, grinning from ear to ear. “Isn’t it amazing?”

She says nothing. She steps closer. In the distance there is a lake. Deep blue with white waves breaking against the surface. She moves to say something, to protest. It is too much. This is too much. She opens her mouth to defend herself when she catches Lance’s eyes. Cold blue eyes starring her down. Daring her to say anything as Keith stands beside him: paint splattered and grinning, flustered and utterly pleased with himself. She pauses, looks up. The blue of her family crest utterly warped and hidden behind the layers and layers of blue paint to the point where even she struggles to see the familiar outline. “I…” She says, voice distant, lost beneath the pounding of her hearts. “I love it.”

“Really?” Keith grins at her, open and unguarded. And for a moment it is almost worth it. “I just... wanted to help this place feel more like home.”

“Yes,” she finds herself saying. “Yes, I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yup! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Y'all gave me such amazing feedback that I had to get this chapter out as soon as possible! Seriously Voltron Fandom, you guys know how to treat your fanfic writers! Cx
> 
> And in other news, it definitely looks like this story will be four chapters long. With things being explained in the next chapter and then actually talking. Nothing hurts more in fanfiction than miscommunication, mah gals, guys, and nonbindary folk. Nothing
> 
> Please tell me what you think!


	3. Clarification

_It is,_ she muses, _no wonder that it came to a head in the way that it did_. In most ways she can only be grateful. But at the time there had been a sense of loss, a feeling of loose sand between her toes as she attempted to trek a road she had no knowledge of starting.

In the days after Keith’s mural, Allura does her best to maintain her presence among the Paladins. She has always prided herself in her stature and poise. Her people were the Diplomats of the Universe and as their future Monarch she had always wanted to embody that. It is something her father had carried with such ease. Now if she cannot carry his legacy onwards through the monarch then the least she could do for her father and her people was to maintain their legacy with grace and poise and a calm, careful presence that came to her Father (and to Coran when it suited him) so easily.

But it is hard when they begin to notice something wrong, latching on to her every mistake and stutter with careful watchful eyes. Hunk is the worse. His careful presence so warm and yet so firm. Always there with a kind question or subtle touch that screams, _speak to me. Confide in me_. To the point where every time she enters the same room he gives her this look: understanding and patient and pitying.

She begins avoiding the kitchen when she can.

She begins avoiding shared meals when she can.

Pidge keeps her head down when Allura passes, gives her space when they share the hallway. Pidge is someone Allura thinks she will never properly understand, but in her own way… Perhaps Pidge is attempting to be considerate. Allura has asked for space and so Pidge will give it to her. It is not cruel. Allura might not understand Pidge, but she knows Pidge is not cruel. So if her silence and distance stings than it is no one’s fault but Allura’s for feeling like this.

Torn.

Confused.

What does she want? Where does she want to stand?

Shiro is the first to truly approach her. She appreciates the thought. Of all of them, Shiro is her steadiest relationship. Both leaders in battle. Both having lost so much. He is steady. He is easy to speak to. He is their unquestionable Alpha. When he approaches her as she sits on that same windowsill Coran had found her on those months ago, she has to wonder if Lance had sent him.

And then she thinks Lance would, wouldn’t he? To keep the peace. Just as she had kept her thoughts to herself, so did he. Was that why they attempted to welcome her into their pack in their first place? Was it genuine or an attempt to maintain peace? She smiles, sardonic, as she picks at her dress and Shiro takes as seat next to her.

She misses home.

“Hey Allura,” Shiro starts, voice quiet and calm. Steady as always. Steady: the best word to describe Shiro. “I… I’m not really good at this.” He smiles and she tries to smile back. From his face she imagines she fails. But what is the point of pretending? They all know she is a mess. No great leader like her father. “And I’m sorry for not saying anything before,” Shiro marches on. “But I noticed you’ve been feeling off for the past…well last few months and I just wanted to let you know I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

He looks up at her, expectantly. When she doesn’t react, he reaches out to her and she lets him take her hand. “If not with me than maybe Coran or Hunk or Keith. I know you guys have been talking more…I just. We’re all worried about you, Allura. I know you don’t see us as pack, but we see you as family. And I just wanted to let you know we’re here for you and you can tell us anything.” He squeezes her hand.

She squeezes back and feels the flutter of his heartbeat beneath his skin. So much slower than her own two beating hearts. She does not know what to say. She does not know what she wants to say.

It isn’t just a painting. She knows that. It isn’t just the lighting or the pillows or the blankets. She’s seen the affect they’ve had on the team. She knows intellectually that Lance was right all those weeks ago when he came to her and asked for permission to do some redecorating. The Paladins had been stressed relative to the way they were now. They sleep better now. They have more energy. They are more efficient in battle. But it feels like a slight. Because with every human element added she can see nothing of Altea. No glass juniberry flowers in the vase full of glass orchids. No lighting to mimic the deep yellow-orange of the Altean sun. Nothing picked by her or Coran sitting on the shelves or hanging from the walls.

She does not know if she has permission. She does not know how to ask.

And she does not know how to say any of this to Shiro.

So she says, “I appreciate your offer. Thank you, Shiro.” It is diplomatic. Neutral. It is only after she says it and looks up in the face of Shiro’s silence does she realize it is also dismissive. Cold.

“Oh,” Shiro says, clearly taken aback. And this is not what she wanted as Shiro takes his hand back and stands, “I understand Allura. Coran said to give you time but I… Well. I didn’t mean to be presumptuous.” He tries to smile for her and she has to wonder what he thinks of her now. “I meant what I said Allura. Just… you can talk to me any time, okay?”

As he leaves, she does not know how to call him back.

.

She sits there in silence as Shiro’s steps recede. Lost in thought. Picking at a loose string on her second favorite dress until then there is a new set of footsteps and she look to the door to see Lance. Face neutral as he regards her and she regards him. For a moment, it looks like he is about to say something before he looks away and down.

His footsteps follow Shiro.

She is left alone.

.

Dinner is… in the best words, awkward. Hunk looks from her to Lance and back, clearly working something out as Lance does his best to keep his head down. Shiro sits next to her, but he seems equally lost. Only Pidge attempts conversation, speaking to both Keith and Coran.

When Lance is done, he thanks Hunk for the dinner before retreating. Either to his room or the training deck where he and Keith will often spend their evening.

After that it is easy to see, she realizes, that the others were not aware of the rift in their relationship like she had originally assumed. Now she understands what it means to be distant from the others as they keep to the sidelines. Pidge, in particular, is careful not to interfere. Going so far as to return to her original workshop instead of the area of the common space when wanting to work on projects. While Hunk struggles to avoid interfering.

At one point she hears him say to Coran, “Even I know better than to step in between two territorial Omegas, Coran. They’ll work it out. I know Lance. We have to just give them time.”

She does not hear what Coran replies. She had already move down the hall, breathing hard. She is certain she does not want to know.

Shiro still tires. His presence as steady as ever even as their nightly chats are reduced to moments of calm silence watching the starts. She thinks he is waiting for her to say something, to lead. But she is no closer to answers than she was when he first asked. And so she says nothing.

Only Keith comes to her during this time. A few days after that dinner, Keith corners her on her way out after a session in the training area lifting weights in an attempt to work off the excess energy that has been building along with the tension in the Castle. He crowds her, pushes her away from the door with an earnest expression on his face, hands out and open as he approaches.

She takes a step back. He takes one forward.

She sets her water bottle down and he follows her hands with his eyes.

“Keith,” she starts.

“Allura,” he echoes. His body language is oddly relaxed. Deliberate. As if he is attempting to set her at ease as he enters her space. “It’s been a while since we got a chance to talk.”

She swallows hard and nods. She’s been avoiding the others. She is not a fool. She knows this behavior cannot continue. And she is old enough to know better. Voltron will suffer for it if the tension in the Castle causes Paladins to pick sides. Voltron and, in turn, the universe will suffer if it’s two leaders cannot speak to each other. But she does not know how to approach the situation.

She has not seen Lance since. She can only assume it is equally deliberate.

“Things have been…” She struggles to find the word.

“Weird,” Keith offers, taking a seat on one of the workout benches. She takes her cue and follows. “Shiro says we need to give you time.”

Allura signs. “Time is all we need,” she says but she does not mean it. Have they not had time? Ninety six cycles has left them with a blade above their heads. “Lance and I…”

Keith perks up at that, stares at her with the same oddly intense purple eyes. As always eager to help, to aid a teammate. She wonders if Lance knows he is here. If Lance approves of his lover interacting with her as they stand on such shaky ground. “Does Lance know you’re here?” Allura asks instead of finishing her sentence.

Keith looks confused at this. “No…”

She nods, standing. “I assure you, Keith. Lance and I are fine,” she says even though she does not mean it. “We will work this out. But I believe it is best we go our ways. I will see you at dinner, yes?”

Keith narrows his eyes and stands. It is only then she realizes how short he is compared to her and she is quick to look away. “Why does Lance knowing I’m here matter?”

“You are his mate,” Allura says as simple as that because it is. From what she understands of Lance and Keith’s relationship and what she can guess, Keith is protective of Lance and Lance is protective of Keith. Him being alone with someone Lance sees as another Omega, perhaps even as competition if she thinks back to that first night after Lance came out of the pods (and she has thought back to it often), would only escalate tensions. “I do not understand much of your dynamics, but I have learned enough. Now… I really do need a show—.”

Keith snarls, cutting her off. She looks back at him to see the shaking. His fists are clenches as he’s look down, glaring at the wall. “Lance,” Keith snaps, “Does not own me. I can’t believe…You,” He takes a deep breath and looks up at her so she sees the tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes, “I thought we were fucking friends, Allura.”

She’s getting used to watching her Paladins walk away from her.

.

It is Coran in the end who comes to her. He comes a day later after she’s showered and is busy combing her hair. Sleepy and somewhat relaxed. Dressed in a sleeping dress. He knocks in that same way he has since she was a child. Five sold knocks along the door and then a pause and three more. When Allura was younger she had liked playing Kingdom in which her bedroom was her Kingdom, her toys and friends her subjects and advisors, and anyone who wished to enter her domain must know the secret password. As she grew older and left behind that world of pretend to entrench herself within her studies and duties as Heir, Coran still knocked like that.

 

Now that so much is gone, it is nice to know many things have not changed.

So it is easy to call “come in,” and when he does not respond to get up and open the door. What is not easy is to see Lance pressed against the side of the only person she has ever seen as a Mother. “Coran…” She does not know what to say past the knot forming in her throat.

“Allura, may we come in?” Coran asks, moving towards her while his other hand stays with Lance and she nods, jerking her head up and down, as she moves away from his touch so it only looks like she is attempting to welcome them in.

Lance sniffles as he walks past her, tear marks on her cheek. And she feels a bang of worry. But it leaves just as quickly as it comes, replaced only with confusion and something like anger.

( _Why is he allowed to cry_ , Allura’s mind whispers traitorously. _When I’ve done everything in my power to avoid it._ )

Coran takes a seat at her desk and gestures for both her and Lance to take a seat across from him on the bed. Lance hesitates, stays standing as Allura moves on autopilot. It is only after Coran says, “Lance…” in that same awful, disappointed voice Allura remembers from her childhood does Lance move to do the same, keeping more than enough distance between the two of them.

Coran looks at them for a moment as if waiting for… something. Before sighing, weary and heavy. Moving to stand straighter as he takes a moment to look them both in the eye, “I honestly thought you two would have fixed this already. I have done my best to stay out of this. To give you two time to reach out to each other and fix things on your own. I am sad to see you haven’t.”

Allura flinches at that as if she were young again, seven and waiting for Coran to send her to her corner.

“You two are the leaders of Voltron. Shiro is yes,” Coran says quickly and Allura looks over to see Lance closing his mouth, “In battle. But you are a leader during periods of rest, Lance. Your actions set an example. And I would argue you have acted poorly these past few months. And Allura,” Coran looks to her, “I respect what you’re trying to do. But you are no longer just a Princess. You must speak your mind. If there is something you do not understand than you must seek out answers not just by observing, but also by speaking to the others. If there is something you do not like than you must tell those around you. This is how we lead. By communicating. Am I wrong?”

“N-No,” Allura admits, biting her lip.

Coran sighs again, “I am not angry. I am not even disappointed. You two are young,” He pauses a moment so he knows he has both of their attentions, “Lance. Nineteen and expected to lead a pack when on Earth you would not attempt it for another decade at least. Allura, twenty-one minus a few thousands of years,” here he shares a smile with her. Common to joke about something so painful so to make sure you could endure it, “And already a Queen. Already expected to lead when you have so much left to learn. You two should be allowed to mistakes and I am so sorry that choice was taken from you.”

“You’re no better off,” Allura cuts in. Because it is true. They are the last ones, left with a legacy to carry forward. Allura’s children would be the first of a new era of Alteans. But still their species is endangered. Bound to die out or change through the mixing of genes.

Coran chuckles, “I would say I have a good few decades on the both of you.” He shares a smile with Lance and Lance smiles back, even though it waivers. Everything from the curve of his shoulders to the uncertain look in his eyes screams he does not want to be here. But he stays. This is perhaps the longest they have spent together in some time. “Now… We need to fix this, yes? I would say we all agree things cannot go on as they have, right?”

“Yes.” “Yeah.” Allura and Lance meet eyes for the first time. She does not know what to say next. Lance looks to Coran, panic pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Lance,” Coran urges, “Why don’t you tell Allura what you told me. If nothing else, we agreed she deserves an explanation, yes?”

Lance nods his head jerkily. “I-,” he clears his throat, “I wanted to apologize for…for a lot.” He looks up and meets her eye. There is a moment of silence as he regards her and she regards him. Before that familiar stubbornness takes over his features and he nods. “I am sorry, Allura. For snapping at you all those months ago after I woke up. It wasn’t your fault.” Allura fights herself to stay silent, to not argue. Coran says they will talk and so she will have her turn. “I am sorry for ignoring you. And I’m sorry for not talking to you sooner. Aft-“ His voice breaks and he looks back at Coran. Coran nods, encouragingly.

“After that, I didn’t know how to say sorry. I was… not angry at you. But disappointed in myself. I just…” Lance takes another deep breath, “I’m not a very good Omega. Not… Not that I think the others don’t appreciate what I do for them. But I know I’m not a very good Omega because I tend to get things wrong as often as I get it right. And here you are just… you might not have the hormones, but you’re just as much an Omega as I am and you’re just so…” he gestures to her, hands out as if attempting grasp something, “You’re just so fucking good at it. They listen to you without question and respect you. And you know how to calm them down without scenting and I was just so… jealous.” He takes a deep breath, “So when I smelt you on Keith that night I just saw red and you came and you knew so much about Keith that I hadn’t noticed and I was so jealous. And I took it out on you.”

Lance looks down, “And after that I didn’t know how to fix it. I saw you pulling away and I thought you wanted space because I’d hurt you. Because I know I hurt you. And then you were just so far away and I didn’t know how to talk about it all…I am so sorry, Allura. I am so, so fucking sorry. Coran said you feel like you’re not part of the family and you are. You are family. You are pack. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t. I should have been better. I should have reached out and explained things before we got here. I should have been a better Omega. I have no idea how to make it up to you. But if given the change I will do my best to fix things.”

There is a moment of silence and she looks at Coran. When he nods, she starts, “Lance, I never wanted to threaten your position. I have always seen you as an amazing Omega. I don’t know where you got this idea that I was a better candidate,” she laughs at that. “Would you believe me if I said I was the one who was jealous?”

“Jealous?” Lance laughs, “What? Why would you be—?” But Coran clears his voice and Lance falls silent.

“You and Hunk are just so good at reading the others,” Allura clarifies, “And I struggle so hard to understand you all. When you asked me to allow you to redecorate, you were right. They were stressed and I hadn’t even noticed. And they’re so much better now, which is why I didn’t…” She trails off at this, unsure if she can say it.

“Allura,” Coran says, “It’s alright. You are allowed to speak your mind. Right, Lance?”

Lance nods his head and moves forward as if to reach out to her before stopping, pulling away until Allura moves. She laces their fingers together and she shudders as she breathes out. He is warm. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back, eye’s wide as her face scrunches, trying to keep from crying.

“It’s okay to not feel okay, Allura,” Lance says, moving closer (finally) so their legs almost touch and she can feel his heat, his presence. Pick up just the hints of his scent in the air. “I know I haven’t done anything to prove otherwise, but I care about you. I do. And I hope you can confide in me so I can fix this.”

She sniffles as the tears start falling. Her shoulders are shaking and she hunches forward to place her face in her left hand as she stubbornly holds on with her right. “I thought you hated me,” she chokes out, “For getting everyone entangled in the war. For not being a good enough leader. And I know I’m not,” she looks up at him, “You say I’m a better leader, but I’m not. I don’t know how to take care of everyone. I don’t even know how to hold myself together.” She looks to Coran, “Of all his children, Father saved me and I don-don’t know why,” she sobbing now and she doesn’t know how to stop. “And then you all hated me and I didn’t know what I had done and I lost you guys. I lost…” She takes a deep breath. Lance is crying now, silent tears as he holds her close. “My second family.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance cries, “I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry, Allura. You haven’t lost us. You haven’t… We love you. I promise we love you.”

Coran moves, crossing the space to sit next to her and pull them both close as they cry. When she feels calmer, she tries to move away only to feel Lance’s hold tighten. She takes a few more deep breaths. “I…” she clears her throat and sniffles, “And it hurt when I saw you guys redecorating and I… I wasn’t apart of it, you know.”

Lance nods.

“It felt like you were trying to get rid of me.” And there. She said it and it felt like a weight had lifted as she slumps back into Coran’s hug. The sadness is still there. But she said it. And now Lance knows.

Lance moves away, wiping his face with the back of his hand, “I’m sorry it felt like we were taking your home from you,” Lance whispers, “This is your home, Allura. We are your family. And I… we’re going to fix this, okay?” He looks up and smiles at her, watery and genuine. “I love you.”

Allura smiles back, “I love you too, Lance. I missed you.”

Lance laughs and it is less in humor and more in pure relief, “I really missed you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I'm so happy I was able to get this chapter out as NaNoWriMo continues to kick my ass. If there are any typos or grammar errors please let me know. Thanks!! Cx
> 
> So this story has really been me experimenting with a limited, unreliable narrator. There is a lot going on here that I've attempted to hint at that Allura just doesn't know because 1) no one told her, 2) she didn't outright notice, or 3) she wasn't there to witness it but other characters were. Some of these things will be explained in the next chapter or in future stories. I do have at least three more stories planned for this 'verse so I hope you guys stick around! Cx
> 
> Some things I want to clarify here because I don't think I'll be able to outright state it in chapter four or later stories:
> 
> 1) In chapter two, Allura references the Paladins distancing themselves from her. In reality, the Paladins were stressed out though, but Allura saw that behavior as them being angry at her because she was seeing everything in terms of her falling out with Lance. Lance was able to pick up on this and asked to redecorate as a way to make the environment less stressful for the others. In the last chapter, the time when the Paladins start "warming up" to Allura again coincides with when Lance starts redecorating.
> 
> 2) Coran was encouraging paladins to confront Allura in the background. He suggested Shiro to talk to her. He encouraged Keith to talk to her. He tried to get Hunk to step in. Because he wanted to help her and Lance get better, but wasn't able to step in himself until Lance came to him for reasons that can only explained by knowing his and Allura's past. I tried to set that up in these last two chapters and do plan on exploring that more in another story. I hope that came across. 
> 
> Other things (Coran and Allura's past, Keith's reasons for being angry, why Shiro backed off so quickly, Pidge's distance from the drama, etc) will be expanded upon in the next chapter or in other stories. But I hope these things I listed were able to picked up as you read through the chapter. If not please let me know! Fanfiction is a place I try to stretch my writing because you get a lot more immediate feedback. And I really appreciate your feedback!
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	4. Lesson One

In the aftermath, they fall asleep, exhausted both emotionally and physically, curled around each other on the bed as Coran sits against the footrest like a sentinel even in sleep.

And it is an easy sleep. A deep sleep. Something she has grasped for in the past few months and found hard to find. But here with Lance, it is easy to let go as her tears dry and their voices fall silent, having talked as much as they could. Relief and compassion and hope swirl until her hearts feel warm and the pillows feel too cool against her flushed face.

And when she wakes, it takes a moment too long for her to remember where she is. That the warm body next to her is not her younger sister, Kaya. That they had not fallen asleep after a round of make believe, playing space pirates and stealing their mothers’ dresses to make sails. And there is a pang of longing when she opens her eyes to see her ceiling barren of the drapes she had when she was younger, thrown away because they had been left to rot and fall apart for 10,000 years in solitude. But still it fades, gives way to the feeling of joy she feels when she turns to see Lance. Breath warm against her face and eyes no more than slits of blue as he climbs his way back to consciousness.

It has been too long since she has woken next to a friendly face. And when Lance finds himself enough to give her a warm, open smile in the dim glow of the nightlights, she can only echo it.

That is not to say things are perfect. When they move to depart—Lance to his own room to change, Allura to the washroom to bathe—there is a moment of unease. _How do we stand now?_ she thinks, looking at Lance as he stares back. They have talked. Let their secrets out to air. But now comes the hard work of finding their footing, of fixing their mistakes. Rebuilding their family. Lance has asked her for a chance and she is ready to give him many. She has missed him. And he has missed her.

Perhaps for now that is all they need.

.

The day passes and it becomes apparently that sometime between breakfast and lunch, Lance spoke to the others. They watch her from the corners of their eyes, uncertain. Only Shiro looks up to meet her gaze. Though even there, there is uncertainty. A question of boundaries and walls that he has never bothered to ask her before.

And she understands their attempts. Appreciates them. They speak to her carefully. Listen intently when she speaks and allow the conversation to circle back to her to ensure she is included. It has been too long since she has spoken to them like this, candidly and about things other than work and battle. When Shiro grins at her, encouraging her to continue, she blushes. When Pidge argues with her, she feels content. When Lance and Keith laugh at one of her jokes, she feels impossibly warm.

She has missed them.

When lunch is done, Hunk calls her into the kitchen and apologizes. It startles her. She says there is no need. “We hurt you,” Hunk says, rinsing the plates Allura hands him and placing them in the dishwasher, “even though we didn’t mean to.” He smiles at her, “My mum raised me to know when to apologize and when not to. And I know I owe you an apology. You’re family, Allura, and I want to help you feel comfortable with me again.”

She is not crying. She has cried enough last night. But if she could, she would be. “Thank you, Hunk,” Allura says, moving closer to bring the larger human in for a hug. He lets her, wraps his arms around her waist, is careful to keep his wet hands from staining her dress. The fabric so delicate after so long. When the hug is finished, she moves away and pretends not to see Hunk wipe away a few tears.

“Coran gave me a cookbook,” Hunk offers, “of traditional Altean cuisine. Maybe...” he grins at her, “you could show me what they should taste like?”

And she understands. “I would love that.” She blushes. “I really would.”

.

That night it takes longer than anticipated for Shiro to join her at their usual spot. His footsteps are familiar in the large observation room. Allura is already there, wrapped in a warm blanket with a cup of Hunk’s new tea at her feet.

“Allura,” Shiro greets, sitting down. He is in sleeping clothes, hand-me-downs from her father who is the only other man she has known to have such broad shoulders. He looks good in them. Black shirt and pants falling on him like they were tailored to his measurements.

“Shiro,” she echoes, smiling up at him. It is easy to smile today. The same hope she fell asleep with is blooming to a certain giddy joy. A day and so much has changed. A day and she feels so much better. But there are still things to be fixed. Conversations to be had. She and Lance are not done. She and Shiro and Pidge and Keith still need their time. But she is allowed to be excited for it. She spent most of the day with Hunk trying to perfect a traditional bun cake usually eaten during the Juniberry Harvest Festival. She stills smells like it: flower and sugar and juniberry essence.

It reminds her of home. Of Altea.

“How are you, Allura?” he asks, looking up at her, his eyes soft and… almost amused. As if they were sharing a joke no one else knows and she finds herself grinning wider.

“I’m a lot better, Shiro,” she says, truthfully. “What did Lance tell you all?”

Shiro shrugs, moves closer so they are almost touching at the shoulders. “That you two talked. That we all have some work to do to fix this.” There is a lull in their conversation for a moment as the atmosphere grows serious. “I am sorry about before, Allura.”

Allura nods, “I accept your apology if you will accept mine. I… I shouldn’t have slammed shut. I was just scared of making things worse.”

Shiro frowns. “You don’t need to apologize, Allura. I shouldn’t have pushed. I know what it’s like to not want to talk about things and I know I pushed when you weren’t ready. Coran had warned me…” Shiro shrugs, turning to smile at her. And his face is so much closer than she anticipated, but she does not truly mind. “Well, either way. I’m happy you’re happier.”

“I missed you, Shiro,” she admits, “I missed being open with you. I just… I did not know my footing. I still don’t really…”

“That’s okay,” Shiro offers, patient as always. Honest as always. In moments like these, she is reminded of how much he has been through. How much older, for all her ten thousand years, he is than she. That yes, he is silly and fun and kind. Yes, he jokes with her and laughs at her childish antics. Yes, they share a camaraderie unlike what she shares with the others, even Lance. But in all honesty, he will always be the better leader of the two of them. “We’ll work on it. We’ll fix things. I just… I want to let you know I’m here for you. I… really care about you, Allura.”

Allura fights to keep herself from blushing and is sure she failed. “I care for you too, Shiro.”

.

As she exits the observation deck, she cannot say she is surprised to run into Coran. No. In many ways she expected him to be close -- a silent caretaker, a steady presence. There are many things in Allura’s life she regrets and many things she regrets in terms of her relationship with Coran. But for all their mistakes, Coran has never strayed from her side, has never left her to flounder. Even now he protects her.

“Hello, Coran,” she says coming to stand by him to look out at the passing stars. Their time staying silent in this far part of their supercluster almost up. Recon from one of their allies has given them intel on an important supply route. Hitting the Galra there should slow, if not significantly cripple, their steady control of these four southern sectors. They would then be able to start pushing back like they had in the west, broadening the borders of the Free Universe.

“Princess,” Coran greets, turning to smile at her, even if it did not reach his eyes.

“It is late,” she says. And it is. Past bedtime for all of them. But she and Shiro have a terrible habit of staying awake too long. “You have had a long day.”

Coran shrugs, an earth gesture he has picked up from the others. “I wished to check up on you.” He smiles and this time it looks real. “How are you, Allura?”

“I…” She searches for the words. “Am happier,” she settles on, “and hopeful.”

“That is good,” he says, turning to look back at the stars.

For a moment they stand in silence. It does not feel uncomfortable, but it is heavy. A silence Allura has come to expect from her relationship with Coran. (And not for the first time does she curse her mother’s ghost.) “I...” she says just as Coran speaks, “All—.”

They fall silent again. And Allura flushes, looks up at Coran from under her eyelashes to see him beating back laughter. “What?” she asks.

Coran shakes his head and chuckles. “Your father would be so proud of you,” he says finally.

“Coran…”

“I miss him,” Coran admits. It is the first time he has allowed himself to say it to her. She knows intellectually he must, but it is different to hear it in his voice. The longing. “We had so much time left and then we did not. But…but I am so very happy you are here, Allura.” He falls silent again and Allura waits. “Last night you asked, why you? And not Kaya or Lis or Alcon. I wish I could answer you, Allura. I wish I could save you from that feeling of guilt. I, too, wonder why me, and not Vedkah or Slvina or Lufti. But if it means anything, Allura, I am so grateful it is you.”

“I…” Allura sniffles, blinking back tears as she smiles. “I am so very happy it is you, too… Papa.”

Coran chuckles at this as he blinks back his own tears. “You are so young. And you have to do so much… I wish I could take this burden from you, Allura.”

Slowly Allura turns and pulls Coran into the first hug they’ve shared since the day they woke together in the future, the quiet sconces of the castle the only witnesses to this moment of vulnerability.

“I love you, daughter,” Coran whispers into her hair.

“I love you, too,” Allura whispers, ignoring the way she leaves a wet mark against Coran’s shirt.

.

A few weeks later Keith approaches her, sheepish and a little shy. They haven’t talked much, not since he walked away that day at the gym, and usually only in group settings: during dinner or in training. Short, civil conversations buffered by the presence of others. But never one on one.

Most of her time with the others is spent one on one as she re-learns her place with each of them. And it is a slow process. Her time with Lance, especially, tends to be harder than with the others. With Hunk they have a task, something to make conversation easy. With Shiro, she is finding herself too comfortable too quickly and isn’t sure if that is a problem yet.  She and Pidge stand as they always have, a silent acknowledgment as they orbit the same rooms and spaces. These days, if she finds herself sitting in companionable silence with her Green Paladin, then that can only be a step towards improvement.

But with Lance there is a tension, an awareness of how their relationship affects the others. They are not just Lance and Allura. They are Omegas and leaders. It is a position Allura is still familiarizing herself with.

So she is surprised to see him shuffle into the kitchen where she and Hunk are arguing about the correct amount of rising powder (which he calls baking powder) to add to the fruitcake they are making. “Keith!” She greets, her voice far too high pitched, and she flushes as Keith freezes like a child with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Uh…” He looks to Hunk for a moment before finding her eyes and she wonders if they planned this. Hunk flashes Keith a thumbs up. “Hey, Allura. I was… I was wondering if we could talk real quick?”

“Oh… of course,” she says, standing and wiping her hands on a kitchen cloth. “Do you…”

“Nonono,” Hunk says, cutting her off. “You stay here. I’ll… I’ll be in the hallway if you need me.” He shoots Keith a heavy look and Keith smiles and nods.

Allura sits back down. Waits.

Keith presses his hands together and takes a deep breath. “I just… I wanted to apologize.”

Allura frowns but waits. She remembers her conversation with Lance and knows she needs to let Keith talk. Then she can say her piece, disagree if she wants to.

“I’m sorry for storming out that day,” Keith continues. “It was Lance who reminded me you… probably don’t realize what you were talking about. Not,” He adds quickly when he sees her eyebrow raise. “Not that I’m saying you’re stupid. I’m just… I--” he groans. “I really suck at this.”

Allura laughs, sharp and bright, before biting her lip. Trying to remain sober. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He shoots her a grateful look and takes the seat Hunk had vacated across the table, careful not to let his sleeves drag through the flour.

Now Allura speaks. “I don’t think you need to apologize, Keith. I understand I overstepped,” Allura shakes her head when it looks like he is about to interrupt. “And I can also admit I do not know how. I would love to learn so as to avoid making the same mistake in the future.”

Keith stares at her for a moment and then nods. “It’s… it’s complicated. My family situation.” Here he pauses and takes a deep breath. “After my parents passed away, I was adopted into a very traditional, very strict household. On Earth, for a long time, Alphas were seen as lower, like Omega property. It’s a lot more complicated than that and if you want you could ask one of us later. But… um… my adopted parents, right? They still believed that Alphas should be controlled by their Omega and that Alpha emotions needed to be suppressed, because Alphas are ‘naturally aggressive.’ Which is bullshit,” he snaps, glaring past her. “It is! Being an Alpha doesn’t make you any more aggressive or-- or dangerous than any other person. Just like being an Omega doesn’t make you a better person. If an Alpha is really aggressive it’s because they were raised to be aggressive or had a really shitty childhood experience.” He looks almost winded. Allura wonders if she can recall ever hearing him speak so much at once.

“You know?” Keith presses. He’s looking at her now, like he needs her to understand, needs her to agree.

Her eyes widen. Because oh… _oh_! She’d been so caught up in trying to understand their second genders that she’d forgotten…Oh!

Keith grimaces. “Yeah so…When you said that stuff about Lance knowing I was there I just… it hit a cord. And Lance made me realize you didn’t mean it. You probably had no context. So… I’m sorry for not being more understanding and just running off.”

Allura smiles and gets up, walking over to Keith’s side of the table. “Thank you for telling me, Keith. I apologize for making such a terrible assumption.”

Keith chuckles. “It was pretty shitty.”

She laughs, “Yes. It was. I also apologize for forgetting that you are Keith before you are an Alpha. I will do my best to avoid making these same errors in the future. I see you as family, Keith. And also as a dear friend.”

Keith stands and, for a moment, hesitates before Allura moves forward and pulls Keith closer for a hug. “Yeah,” Keith says into her shoulder, “and I do think of us as friends, Allura. And… as family.”

“Thank you, Keith,” Allura says. Another weight lifts from her chest.

.

They break from orbit around the gas planet they’ve been hiding in for the past three weeks and start making their way south. “There is a supply route dedicated mostly to quintessence starting at the home planet and pushing further south to fuel their campaign. Breaking it will allow us a tactical advantage to push back the border,” Allura tells them the next day at breakfast, pointing out the highlighted green supply route on their star map. “Lance and I have already contacted Commander Zuric and her armies in the east to start making their way south. They’ll be our main backup in the months to come.”

“We’re looking at a six month sprint. Ideally in the end we’ll have at least three solid planets under our belt to allow the rotation of troops from further sections of the Free Universe,” Shiro adds.

“Three planets means we’re splitting up,” Lance continues, pushing his food around his plate before meeting the others’ eyes. “Teams of two. Allura and Shiro. Keith and I. Hunk and Pidge. Range and close combat fighters. We’ll be on the ground, for the most part, with the other resistance fighters. Commander Zuric is offering us at least two thousand soldiers to split between the three planets. Toleda, Altin, and Zul. Some of them you’ve worked with before.” Lance grins at Keith. “Hashi will be there.”

Keith grins back, “I’ve been looking forward to a rematch.”

“So what’s the plan for the supply route?” Hunk asks, bringing their attention back as Lance leans forward for a kiss Keith is happy to give.

“There are six main stations along the trade route. But only three are crucial. The ones closet to the border provide the fuel and supplies necessary to continue a large-scale campaign into unknown territory,” Shiro explains. “Taking them out will be necessary if we want to see Toleda, Altin, and Zul secured in six months.”

“Which brings us to our next stop,” Pidge summarizes, staring down at the debriefing packet Coran had sent them on their tablets. “Explosives?”

Allura grins. “Explosives.”

.

Koris is a beautiful planet. Small, dominated by a singular continent that spans the better half of the planet. The air here has a higher density of oxygen than Earth or even Altea, leaving the planet’s inhabitants with startlingly short life spans but a greater density of lush forests and sprawling green plains.

The capital city and main trading hubs were built into the side of a forever-green mountain. It’s well-defended by thick forests on three sides and solid stone to its back. Not that that is its only defenses. For all the natural beauty and easily accessible resources Koris has to offer, her people were no strangers to war. Ten thousand years fighting off an empire that has slowly been consuming the known universe is enough time to build up a significant army.

Its strong defense and relatively stable political system are the main reasons why most of the Free Universe’s traders find their way to its markets. It’s also why Team Voltron rarely bothers to shop elsewhere.

The first time Allura had stepped onto this planet after waking it’d been at Commander Sylth’s insistence. The Commander was a bright young woman of only 35 full cycles, already a leader in the resistance. Voltron had rescued her from imprisonment during the early days, only a few standard lunar cycles after Allura woke up. After learning of her role and the existence of a resistance she and Allura had taken care to get to know each other, knowing an ally like this was too beneficial to give up.

In the end she had made a friend.

When they park the castle at one of the docks, an ambassador steps forward and asks if they will need anything. Shiro waves them away with a kind smile and a request for space as they do their shopping. They have six hours before they’ll take off and make their way towards Khyis before activating a wormhole jump. (Allura had learnt to be a little more sparing with her wormholes. Apparently it seemed to frighten some people.)

Allura is about to start walking towards the metal district with Shiro when Lance grabs her attention. “I just wanted to pick up a few extra things,” he says airily as she asks where they are going. He takes a hard left away from the metal industry and its technology towards the arts district. It’s a beautiful series of small markets along the winding river that cuts through the capital and feeds into the central lake at the foot of the mountain.  

“Is there a birthday I missed?” she guesses, as he stops walking with any sense of urgency the moment they enter one of the districts. Glasswork and artfully delicate jewelry shine in the steady artificial light of the planet’s sun, made to mimic the long-lost sun destroyed in the early days of the war -- the Galran’s last ditch effort to weaken the people of Koris for conquer. “Or another Earth holiday?”

“No,” Lance says, rolling his eyes, before smiling at her fondly. “I just thought the halls were getting a bit boring.”

She frowns, pausing for a moment before quietly realizing what he was attempting to do. “Lance…”

“Allura,” he echoes, his smile becoming somewhat teasing as he turns to fully look at her. “If you don’t want to that’s fine. But it’s just a thought. Either way, I have plans to buy some things for the kitchen that Hunk has been asking for. If you want we can look around and if not I’m more than fine with shopping by myself. Besides --” A pause. “-- I’m sure Shiro wouldn’t mind you joining him.”

She wonders if that last statement had a meaning she’s just failing to grasp before letting it go to focus on what is more important. Because this is Lance’s gesture, isn’t it? His quiet way of saying _I remember_. And _I want to be better_. And _I love you_. And for once, she’s certain she’s reading him correctly. “I would love to come with you, Lance.” Allura grins, lacing their fingers together.

.

The painter’s section is Allura’s favorite portion of the Art District. Her father had been a collector of the arts, and her childhood had been surrounded by it. Court musicians at every other meal. Balls and galas that lead from one dance to the other. And then onwards. She still remembers the distinct annoyance she’d felt standing still for too long for the court appointed painter every time her father wished to update her portrait, unsure why they couldn’t just take a holoimage like every other royal house. Diana had been fond of pottery making. Lufti played the harp and was insistent on every child at court learning to play at least one of the many instruments that could be found in the known universe. Allura herself had learned to play the guitar, a direct disobedience against her mother who wished her to play one of the daintier instruments like the flute.

Coran had been the rare wife not overtly fond of the arts. He’d been a fan and steady patron of the theatre, but more than content to sit back and watch others showcase their craft than learn any himself, more content with his books and studies. Always a man of history and science before the arts. A novelty her father had found refreshing and adorable.

But what she remembers most is her father’s studio. Splatter paint on the walls and drops on the floor. Half-finished canvases. The steady stream of sunlight from morning to dusk to paint under. There, she’d spent the months of her mother’s sickness, coloring with child’s pastels on one of her father’s largest canvases every moment she could when she wasn’t being dragged to her mother’s bedside in some mimicry of daughterly affection.  As if the kingdom and the universe was not distinctly aware of the lack of fondness between mother and daughter.

Allura tells Lance some of this. About her childhood and her father’s wives and their love of the arts. (She still remembers her Paladins’ surprise to find she had more than one mother growing up and how normal it was to take many wives. Alteans were not ones to avoid love when they could.) But she is careful never to mention her mother, alluding only that she died young. It is not that she does not trust Lance. It is just she does not want to remember. There are reasons for a lack of love that are best left to gather dust.

When Lance asks if her father was any good, she laughs. “Oh, lord no,” she says with fondness. “He had the worst taste in colors. And Coran was very insistent that my father not be allowed to dress himself. His technique was flawless because he was diligent. But his idea of color and composition left something to be desired. It wouldn’t have been as bad as it was if he stuck to realism. Unfortunately,” she shrugs, “he was an experimenter in abstract arts.”

Lance raises an eyebrow as she giggles. “That bad?”

“Oh yes,” she laughs. “Distinctly awful. But he was the king.”

Lance laughs, then, “No!”

“One of his pieces was placed in the great hall where we took new visitors,” Allura adds. “It had very mixed results. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Galiens so insulted. It was very funny to see them trying to compliment it as my father looked on, so eager. Like a newborn canius*.”

Lance laughs again and leans closer to steal one of her fried lollis. “I can’t believe your dad was a bad painter. He just…seems so perfect and kingly.”

“He was a great father and a great leader,” Allura says, moving to keep her lollis out of Lance’s reach. “But he was still mortal. He had his flaws.”

“You never really talk about your family much,” Lance adds, a bit somber, and Allura shrugs.

“Some things are hard to talk about. It might have been ten thousand years for the rest of the world, but when we woke, the war had only been a few cycles old and then there was no time to mourn properly. We’re better now, Coran and I,” she adds. “In the last ten lunar cycles since waking we’ve strived to make our peace, but that does not mean things are not sore.”

“Well… thank you for telling me,” Lance says sincerely.

“Thank you for listening.” Allura smiles back.

.

Three hours later as Lance leaves her to make a quick phone calling to let the others know they’ll be returning soon, she sees it. Tucked behind a large stall a series of brightly colored abstract paintings that might as well hung on the walls of her father’s studio.

It isn’t her father’s. She walks into the stall to see the artist, working diligently away, adding a bright green in quick strokes to a piece of already busy colors and shapes. Not at all her taste, for she preferred straight edges and subtle coloring. But she has no doubt her father would have adored it if he’d seen it.

“How much?” she asks to announce herself. The artist freezes, eyes widening as they turn to see her in their doorway.

“Prin—Your majesty,” the artist cries, standing quickly and just managing to avoid knocking over the canvas. “I… I’m sorry I did not…eh…”

“How much?” she repeats, pointing to a painting in the background. A splash of blues and purples broken only by the swipe of orange and yellow. It reminds her of a nebula, if someone had taken a picture and cut it into pieces and pasted it back together. And while it is not her taste, she can respect the artistic work and care put into it.

“I…” the artist turns to look at the picture, tail wrapping around their leg. “You… like my work?”

“Oh yes.” Allura smiles. “It reminds me of my father’s.” She feels no shame sharing this fact. It is just a fact. “I am willing to give seventy-eight len. I am, unfortunately, not carrying my larger wallet with me.”

The artist blushes and takes the painting down from it’s place of display to bring it to the counter. “I would happy to give it for free, your majesty. The fact that you enjoy it…”

Behind her, Allura can sense a crowd appearing and she fights to maintain her smile. At this point, Lance joins her. “I like it,” he says and shares a look of understanding. “Blue Paladin,” he introduces himself to the artist. “What is your name?”

“Mis,” the artist squeaks, “Well… my nickname is Mis, but my full name is Lanz Mistush, son of Lanz.”

“How much is the painting, Mis?” Lance asks.

“As I was telling the princess, I am more than happy to…”

“I would rather pay,” Allura says, cutting him off. “My culture and my family preferred to support the arts. How much do you have, Lance?”

“Only fifty left.” Lance frowns, taking out his wallet. “You?”

“Seventy-eight,” she repeats, taking out her len. “Would one hundred and twenty-eight be enough?”

“That is more than enough, the painting is really only…” Mis starts.

“That’s very generous of you,” Lance announces loudly for the benefit of the crowd, and Mis freezes, eyes widening when they realize what Lance and Allura are doing. “Could you pack it for us?”

Mis squeaks before gathering a few sheets of thin paper and a bag. Once the painting is packed away, Allura hands over the money and winks. “Good luck,” she tells Mis just as she steps away. The crowd parts just long enough for her to see a few dozen customers rushing forward.

.

They hang it in the far hallway closest to Coran and Allura’s room. Coran swears he did not cry when he first saw it and Lance and Allura know better than to say anything. The others find it amusing. Pidge, oddly enough, adores it.

.

The attack on the three stations goes wrong long before it even begins. New, last-minute information gathered from their allies in the west let them know a battle cruiser is slowly and surely making its way down the supply route, forcing them to jump the gun. Allowing a fully-armed battle cruiser into the territory they hope to capture would be a death sentence for hundreds of resistance fighters.

But they needed more time. With only two weeks to prepare after collecting the necessary supplies from Koris, there isn’t enough time to make all 45 bombs. Her Paladins were fast. And Shiro, Lance, Keith, and herself had gotten efficient at the assembly of various weapons under the watchful eyes of Coran, Hunk, and Pidge. But that does not mean they’re miracle workers.

Fourteen finished. Three more capable of being finished during transit. But if they didn’t want to fight a losing battle, they had little choice.

It was Lance who made the final call. “We don’t want a repeat of Haniz,” he says as Allura frowns down at their star map. The others equally silent. “We split what we have between Keith and Pidge. Let them destroy the two smaller stations. Seven should be enough and if necessary we can retreat and finish them off after we have some breathing room. And the third, Beta-7921, will need to be taken out by hand. A ground team of Hunk, Shiro, Allura, and I will go in and plant some of the hand explosives we’ve been stockpiling. Coran as air support. Pidge and Keith will act as back up.”

Keith opens his mouth as if to protest before Shiro cuts in, “It’s dangerous. But Lance is right. It’s our best shot.”

The room falls quiet. Allura sighs, “All right. Let’s finish those three bombs. I’m setting a course to a nearby gas planet we should be able to hide our signature by.”

“Wait, is that it?” Keith says suddenly. “That’s it? That’s the plan. And Pidge and I have to just be okay with this?”

“Keith…”

“The last time we split up…” Keith glances at Lance and then looks away. “The last time we split up things went south fast.”

“Do you have a better plan?” Allura asks.

Keith glares at her before shifting his attention to the table and his hands. “… No.”

She takes a deep breath. “Then I’m setting a course to a nearby gas planet.”

.

In the end, Keith was right. In the end, no one can say they were surprised.

There is always a danger when splitting her Paladins. Always a danger when asking them to step out of their lions and ready their bayards. In war, there is little choice but sacrifice. Little choice but to endanger oneself for the cause.

It is not something she asks lightly. Not when they were strangers and definitely not now. Now they were family. Allura had already lost one family, and to willingly endanger another… In a perfect universe, she would be able to bring them all to Altea where they could live in splendor and safety.

But this is the universe she has woken into.

Together Shiro and she make steady progress through the map, his close combat skills nearly perfect where Allura stayed in the back, providing steady cover when needed and backup when a soldier—whether Galran or robot—got too close. The plan is simple. They’d acquired the layout of the station in the beginning and found it useful to pinpoint weak spots where their hand explosives would cause the greatest amount of damage. The plan was to separate in two and work their way to the control room where they’d be able to safely begin the detonation sequence before making their way to Hunk and Shiro’s lions.

What hadn’t been accounted for was the reality that the Galrans had known they were coming. Now the fact that the battle cruiser was already on its way made sense.

The resistance had a mole.

The amount of soldiers in their path was proving to be more and more difficult as time went on and Allura’s arms started to burn from the continuous firing of her rifle. Only the knowledge that Lance, Hunk, and Shiro were counting on her kept her aim steady.

The staticky crackle of her com coming to life sounds just as they round the last corner towards the control room to see a crowd of Galran tunneling into the wide doors. Only the screams of battle heard over the sound of Hunk urge Shiro and Allura forward.

They engage. Fighting on all sides. Allura drops her rifle to grab her heated blades, making quick work of the armor along the joints and neck to ensure if not kills then at least crippling injuries. It is when the com falls abruptly silent that Allura pauses long enough for a Galran to get a lucky shot.

“Fuck,” Shiro snaps, clutching his side. He throws one last desperate punch to knock the Galran away before Allura is able to squeeze them into the control room to see Lance standing protectively over Hunk. There’s armor splattered with the purple blood of the Galra they’d been fighting as well as the sick red she’s come to associate with her Paladins.

But what truly terrifies her—beyond the slumped form of Hunk half-propped, half-thrown against the wall—is the look in Lance’s eyes. Helmet long discarded to show a stream of red across his forehead and the wild look in his bright (too bright) blue eyes.

“No,” Shiro gasps, pushing up before slumping back against her. Only the steady blasts from Lance’s rifle keep the Galra at bay long enough for them to limp over to where Hunk lies. For a moment, one terrifying moment, Allura isn’t sure Lance recognizes her, that in his growing blood fever state he’s forgotten her face in favor of seeing anything unfamiliar as a threat, before he catches her eye long enough to nod.

“Lance,” Shiro argues as Allura leaves him to sit with Hunk.

“I know,” Allura urges. “Protect Hunk,” she says handing him her rifle.

She ducks under a flying Galran and runs to Lance. “Snap out of it,” she yells, slicing the closest Galran before falling in line, back to back against a sea of what felt like never ending enemies. “Lance!”

Lance grunts. She can see his reflexes failing as he pushes himself harder and harder, blood fever leaving him sloppy as his body fails to keep up with his instincts. When it looks like another robot is about to get a lucky shot, she steps in and slices its arms off.

“I’m here,” she says, stepping forward to grab Lance’s attention just as the last wave begins to thin. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to protect the pack by yourself.”

Lance stares at her, freezing under the weight of her hands before he blinks. Once. Twice. And the wild, frenzied look fades slowly from his eyes. “Allura…” he whispers, blinking again and turning to see Shiro and Hunk against the wall, then turning ahead. Another crowd of Galrans makes their way down the long corridor in the distance. “I….”

“You’re not alone,” Allura repeats, stepping back to ready herself. “We can do this.”

Lance nods, reforming his bayard. “Yeah… yeah. We can do this.”

.

When Keith arrives, it’s to the sight of Allura and Lance barely standing, the two of them exhausted beyond natural limits and yet still standing from will alone, a sea of corpses at their feet.

“Oh… good,” she slurs, allowing her blades to finally drop from her hands. “We were wondering…”

She does not remember falling asleep.

.

She stands, toes sinking into the soft sand as the waves lap against her toes. The cool ocean breeze is refreshing on her skin despite the heavy taste of salt on her tongue.

When she wakes, it is to the feel of steady arms around her waist and the familiar warmth that she has come to associate with Omega. It seems she is destined to wake in Lance’s arms these days.

“Allura,” Lance calls from too far away. Ears still clogged with sleep, she grins, leaning up to push her face flush with his, nuzzling close. There is a sharp breath and then Lance is moving, pulling away before she moves to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Morning,” she mumbles, nuzzling again. When she opens her eyes, it’s to see Keith grinning at her from across the room as she settles her head comfortably on Lance’s shoulder. “How long was I sleeping?”

Lance twitches, hesitates, and then tightens his hold on her waist. “Just two days. I got out yesterday.”

“Oh good,” she says, “I was worried.”

Lance clears his throat and then Shiro is stepping into view. “Allura, do you want to move?” he asks.

“No,” Allura says simply. “Lance is warm and smells nice.” She smiles. “I like this nuzzling thing. I never get to smell you as clearly.”

There is a warmth under her cheek and she laughs. “Allura, you do know…”

“It’s how you greet family, isn’t it?” she asks Shiro. She pulls back, feeling much more awake and, now, a little more self-conscious. “I thought…” She shares a look with Lance, attempting to convey her sincerity. “I thought the offer was still there to officially join… the pack.”

She looks away, flustered. She sees Pidge high-fiving Hunk as Keith steps forward, bumping shoulders with Hunk before her attention is pulled back to Lance. “Of course the offer… I just wasn’t sure if you…” Finally, Lance clears his throat. “Of course you’re welcome in the pack, Allura. You’re family.”

This time when she leans forward to nuzzle Lance’s cheek, he coos and nuzzles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! We're finished! This chapter was certainly a monster to write. But here we are. We have reached the end of this journey! I want to thank everyone who read it until the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> And as always, please let me know what you think!
> 
> Edit: ALSO! Happy New Years!! 
> 
> Shout out to my Beta: [TheMaelStromWrites.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/themaelstromwrites/pseuds/themaelstromwrites) Thank you so much for editting this monster of a chapter so quickly! I owe you lots of kissys! 
> 
> *Notes:
>
>> Standard lunar cycles are based on the galran home planet’s moon cycle. Most standard time does since Galrans are the dominant race and they revolve around their home planet. If anything is refered to as standard—including the language—know it’s all based on Galra.
>> 
>> Canius is a dog in Altea. Only difference is it has two tails. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please support me on my writing blog: thequeen117.tumblr.com


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